Talk:The Deplorables/@comment-28816571-20161014021032/@comment-28816571-20161015013033
It was another one of those days but Chen scarcely seemed to notice. She was tired and already she could tell that it was going to rain through the grey early morning haze. It was October 16, 2016 and Chen felt like she was coming down with a flu. “This is ridiculous.” she muttered, and honked a patheitc honk. She shook her head and looked out the window again, there was a cardinal pecking for something in the front yard but aside from that the ground was bare. “I think I’m coming down with something. For Christ’s sake, I haven’t even been sick in seven years...” She blinked heavily, the last time she had been sick was right before the debates in 2008, and that had cost her the election. Everything that came after that seemed to be a blur of failure. First had come the sinking feeling as she had watched Obama slip past her, first in electoral votes, then in popular. A part of her had been expecting it since the debates but it still felt like a punch in the gut anyways. She had existed in a haze for several days afterwards, meeting with donors and supporters, expressing her deepest apologies and ensuring them that she would be back in the game as soon as she was able, but behind the smile and the firm handshake she gave the public he just felt numb. She had been slapped out of the sky like the Phoenix and now she was on her way to earth, flaming feathers and all. She had tried to slog her way out from the wilderness, challenging Donald Trump to be the presidential candidate of the Republicans, but as she watched the results pour in she felt a very similar sinking feeling, and the image of the Phoenix form X-Men plunging to earth came to her mind again, the flames larger, the ground closer. She had made a concession speech, she had railed against the media for shamelessly supporting her opponent over her, in a country that was supposed to have freedom of press too, but instead all she got was mockery and in her mind, the Phoneix ended her descent with a final sickening smack. She had continued to exist after that, but it was clear that few believed her capable of the political steps she had taken with ease in better days. Instead of running for president she had helped send another man off, Mitt Romney, that funny Massachusetts governer with his natural charisma and fierce dislike for social conservatism. But that venture had ended poorly as well, with Romney shattered in the election by Obama’s blackness. But despite the disaster of 2012, she had walked through the entire thing without a scratch and even as many of her colleagues foundered in the aftermath, Chen found herself still standing, and even in a position to repair her battered credentials. 2016 was better still, and as the midterm results came in and the Republican party made gains against the Democrats for the first time in years, Chen felt a little ball of success begin to burn through the clot of stress that had seemed to gather at the bottom of her gut. The Phoenix had found new wings. But now she was sick, and whenever that was the case bad things never seemed too far behind. “I think I’m going to go for a walk.” She said, rising from bed and stretching. But even as she got her blood flowing, the odd stuffy feeling in her head just wouldn’t abate. Yup, she was definitely sick. Chen quickly dressed and stepped outside into the crisp October air. It felt good to be outside and as she walked across her lawn an often thought of dilemma entered her mind. When was she going to tell everyone that she was planning on running for president again? Deep within herself she knew that this time around she had what it would take to wrest the presidency from any opponent that she would have to face. Chen was so deep in thought that as she rounded the corner of a street and stepped into the road she did not pause to check the street ahead of her. In later years historians would wonder that perhaps if she had not been ill she would have heard the car approaching, but whatever the case, Chen stepped out into the road and was struck a glancing blow by the bumper of a Ford F-Series, shattering her hip and throwing her fifteen feet down the road. The driver screeched to a halt and for a moment merely stared in open mouthed horror before rushing from his car to aid the downed girl lying crumpled in the gutter. But even as he approached he could see that it was too late. Chen, just a moment ago planning for greater things, had departed from this world.